“Drakh?” Cinder asked.
I nodded.
“Where?”
“Not sure.”
Cinder gave me a look. “Not sure?”
“I’m looking ahead to see what’ll happen if I get in touch with people on the Council,” I said. “It’s easy to see the point where they suddenly stop picking up their phones. Detail is harder.”
Cinder grunted. “How long for?”
“Not sure about that either.”
“Seems like you say that a lot.”
“Like I said. If things really go to hell, I’m not going to have an issue if you just gate out.”
“Hm. We going?”
I nodded. “Let’s do it.”
I’d parked us just off Bishopsgate, the big A-road that runs from north to south through the Liverpool Street financial district. It was a warm sunny Friday and the area was crowded, men and women in business suits mingling with travellers and service workers. Both new and old skyscrapers rose up all around, with Heron Tower just visible over the nearby building, tallest of all. A little way to the north, hidden behind a city block, was Liverpool Street mainline station. If things got messy and Starbreeze wasn’t able to get me out, that was my backup plan for shaking pursuit. Glancing at the front of the van as I climbed out, I saw that in the brief time that we’d been stopped, it had picked up a parking ticket. The van’s owner was not going to be happy.
Cinder clambered out behind, the van lifting noticeably with the loss of his weight, then reached inside and took out a pair of big plastic toolboxes, handing one to me. I took it and had to shift my stance—it was heavier than Cinder had made it look—then we turned and started walking.
Cinder and I were both dressed in orange fluorescent worker’s overalls, with silver reflective stripes. They’re the most garish outfits you could imagine, but oddly enough, they made us blend right in. Central London is usually filled with construction work, and Bishopsgate was no exception—there were new skyscrapers going up on both sides of Heron Tower, and nearly one man in ten was wearing gear like ours. No one spared us a second glance as we walked towards the building.
Heron Tower is shining steel and glass, lines of white lights running along each floor, bright enough to be visible even in the daytime. Bright metal zigzagged from above our heads up and up through dozens of stories until the top blocks were so small you had to squint. The right corner of the skyscraper had a pair of lifts that were visible through the grid of glass panes, rising and falling in plain view from the outside. The side entrances had a bar and a sushi restaurant.
The inside lobby was quieter. Security gates to the right led to a set of escalators, and there was a gigantic aquarium in the lobby centre. A tall security guard with a neat salt-and-pepper beard stood to the left, and I could feel his eyes settle on us as soon as we walked in. I headed for the reception desk before he could intercept us.
There were three receptionists behind the desk, and I’d already picked out my target. She was blond and in her thirties, holding an iPad, pretty with lots of makeup that almost hid the crow’s-feet at her eyes. Her smile slipped a little as she saw us approaching, and I could see her sizing us up. Construction workers, therefore not rich or important. Conclusion: shoo away. She waited as we walked up to her and—
—my future self reached forward and plucked the tablet out of her hands. She tried to protest but I held up a hand while I looked at the tablet. It was still unlocked and I opened up the list that said Appointments and started scrolling through. The security guard moved in but Cinder blocked him; both the guard and the receptionist were speaking angrily but I was focused on the appointments list. Anglo-American . . . no. GlaxoSmithKline . . . no. Lloyds Banking Group . . . no way we could pass for that. Murphy . . . maybe, but the appointment was for four. The security guard tried to deal with Cinder physically. Bad idea. He went down hard; the receptionist hit an alarm and backed away; other security guards were hurrying from the other side of the room; Cinder shot me an irritated comment. A company name caught my eye: EDF Energy. Two people. I scanned the names, checked the time, let the future collapse—
—and I was back in the present. The lobby was quiet except for the murmur of conversation and the noise of the escalators. The receptionist was looking at us, the tablet in her hands.
“Hi,” I said. “We’re from EDF. Looking for Keith Adams from Salesforce?”
The receptionist eyed me doubtfully. “Do you have an appointment?”
I nodded at the tablet. “EDF Energy.”
The receptionist checked the tablet. “Can I have your name please?”
“Radu Todoca.”
“You’re a bit early . . .”
“Our job window’s twelve to three.”
“It just says three here,” the receptionist said, but she’d lost interest. My name matching the one on her tablet had removed any suspicion. She handed me a clipboard. “Can both of you fill in your name, company, and time entered. Also, we need a mobile number so we can contact you while you’re in the building.”
I took the clipboard and started filling in the form. The security guy had wandered up, apparently friendly. “Hello there, sir,” he said. “What were your names again?”
“Radu. And this is Bogdan.”
“Oh, really? From Poland?”
“Romania.”
“Romania! That’s great. What are you here for?”
I handed the clipboard to Cinder; he took it and started to fill in the blanks in silence. “Need to check the power for the twenty-third floor,” I said. “Health and Safety.”
“If it’s the power, shouldn’t you be going to the basement?”
I shrugged. “Work order says twenty-third.”
“I’ve sent a message to Keith Adams,” the receptionist said. She handed us two badges. “I’ve scanned you through the security gate. Make sure to wear these at all times inside the building.”
“Okay.” I took the badges, handed one to Cinder, gave the security guard a nod, then turned and headed for the gates. Cinder followed. No one stopped us as we walked through the security gates, took the escalators to the mezzanine floor, waited for a lift, and stepped inside. I hit the button for the twenty-third floor and the doors hissed shut, leaving us alone.
“You are shit at passing for an electrician,” Cinder said.
“I got us in, didn’t I?”
The lift hummed as it rose. Gravity pressed down on us as the lift climbed past the lower floors and into the glass elevator shaft I’d seen from the outside. Through the clear windows we could see the street and shops and pavement below, shrinking quickly.
“That guard had you made.”
“He’s a security guard,” I said, keeping an eye on the numbers above the lift door. We were going up fast. “Being suspicious is his job.”
“You sounded like an American doing a Cockney accent.”
“Oh, come on. I wasn’t that bad.”
“Yeah, you were.”
“My dad was a university professor. I’m never going to make a convincing construction worker.”
“You sound like a posh twat.”
“You think anyone with an RP accent sounds like a posh twat.”
“’Cause they are.”
The lift slowed and stopped with a ding, the doors sliding open to reveal two women and a man in business dress. I held up a hand. “Sorry. Maintenance.”
They stared in confusion. I hit the Close button, followed by the top floor. The doors slid shut and we started rising again. “Okay,” I said. “Once I get off, head down to the basement and find a place to hole up. I’ll get in touch with you once it’s time to cut the power.”